The umbrella and the shotgun (Mystrade one shorts)
by TimeLadyMycroft
Summary: mystrade one shorts. not necessarily related to each other or on canon logic. I don't know how many it will be or for how long I will be posting, just hope you guys like it. taking requests
1. our closet

"Gregory, is this a joke?"

Lestrade observes the man standing in front of the television, the angry face, casual clothes and sarcastic posture. Before answering, trying to keep the most calm voice tone possible, he tries to remember what have he done wrong.

"What, love?"

"What?" The government officer feels the anger getting stronger in his chest, but it doesn't least much. The man laid on his couch, only bought after the grey haired man moved in, a few week before, is dress only with his underwear and wrong matched socks. Organization wasn't something to be expected. "My closet, Gregory. It looks like the seventh circle of hell!"

"Your closet, Myc?", He asks calmly, sitting straight on the couch, observing the pale angry eyes, "I thought it was our closet"

Gregory notice the guilty flinch on his beloved one face, and realise he shouldn't have said that. The truth is, Mycroft is not good on living with someone, it's obvious how is a difficult thing to adapt. The new couch, television noise, new fridge and loads of beer... It wasn't easy for him to accept all of that, yet he was putting a lot of effort on it.

Knowing the taller man well, Lestrade knows he will start apologising in three seconds and he wouldn't talk about the mess on the closet again. But he couldn't let that happen, the bossy yet insecure man in front of him deserved a firm and full of trust relationship, with full space for exigencies.

Mycroft is looking for something to say, making Gregory feel comfortable in his house was his main objective since he accepted sharing it. He even bought everything new, asking the annoying help of John Watson, now he was making another mistake. It was their closet.

He is about to apologising and forgetting about the mess, witch seemed smaller compared with the idea of making inspector uncomfortable on the mansion, when Gregory stands, smiling sweetly, dark eyes full of caring.

"Sorry for the mess, Mycroft, I'll do my best to keep it all clean and organized" he places a kiss on the other cheek and grab his hand. "I'm not Sherlock, ok? This is not a bitterness competition. I'm not John. This is not a sarcastic rude talk. And I'm not you mother. You don't have to keep proving yourself to make me happy. We are in a relationship, and I have to put effort on it too, not just you."

The tense expression on Mycroft's face fades away, turning in to a thankful relaxed smile, a little blushed as Lestrade finds amusing to realise. The taller man bounds a little to lay a kiss on the gray hair, enjoying the smell of shampoo.

"The bathroom, by the way..." he starts, getting Gregory to roll his eyes and shut him up with a hard kiss.

"I'm going to keep it clean, Myc."


	2. our boys

Gregory Lestrade opens his eyes to a white room, he can hear a insist bip, it's annoying, but not as the pulsating pain in his chest. The inspector tries to rise his hand to the hurt, but it gets pulled back by some kind of wire. He puts his head hard against the pillow, remembering. There was a shot. He was shot.

— Well, fuck.

— It would be wise to stay still, Gregory — a very deep and tired voice comes from his right. Mycroft Holmes looks like hell, he was crying, as the red eyes shown, the bags beneath them of some time without sleeping, the formal t-shirt was a complete mess. The tall man grabs the sick hand and bounds a little to see him from closer — It would be great if my husband stayed alive for our one year anniversary.

— Your husband is putting a lot of effort on it — the grey haired man smiles sweetly, the pain making his grab weak — You look terrible, Myc. Sorry to make you worry.

— I thought you were going to die, Gregory, I was so scared when Sherlock told me what happened — Mycroft was always so cold, trying to play cool, sometimes Gregory forgets how fragile his beloved is.

In a effort he rise the other hand, ignoring the pulsating scream on his body, and place it on the still wet cheek. Mycroft shut his eyes, felling the hot palm on him, right after the operation Gregory was so cold, enough to make his husband ignore all his logic and question with he would ever be hot again.

— Everything is going to be ok, now, love — the government officer want to tell him how many times he almost died in less than two days, how terrible the shot was, and how miraculous his recovery was, but Mycroft just agree, now Gregory was awake and Everything was better — Don't you worry about me.

Impossible enough, he wanted to say, but again decide against it, just laying his head on the fragile hands, holding them. The big and always rough hands, like the man was working breaking rocks day and night, stayed on the well treated skin for a while before he jumped in a memory.

— The Cardiff killer, he shot me! — for the lack of surprise on Mycroft's expression, it wasn't news — We have to get him, it might have evidence in the place I was shot.

— Stop the agitation, Gregory — Mycroft put on of the hands on the not hurt shoulder and pushes the man down delicately —, me and the boys will handle it, don't worry.

— So John and Sherlock are boys now? — Gregory accepts being calm down, dark eyes playful on the other's.

— Of course they are — Mycroft sits, still holding one of the husband's hand. In a glance through the glass wall of the hospital room the detective and the soldier walk in their direction, as worried, angry and tired as the government officer —, our boys.


	3. Sunflower candles

Gregory Lestrade planed that romantic dinner for weeks, that kind of attention was going to be good to Mycroft and he was very excited with the idea, it was a new concept to the Ice Man. That's why Greg got so blue when his new boyfriend called talking about terrorist groups and embassadors.

It was perfectly understandable, of course, his work was very important, the inspector was not disappointed for himself, he could manage the dinner for another day without a problem, but for Myc. He was going to feel extremely guilty and was going to spend days apologising, and it was going to lose the opportunity of having a not worries first romantic dinner.

Sitted on his sofa using just his underwear, Gregory thinks about freezing his dinner for another day, still wasn't cooked yet, so having to rotten wasn't a immediate worry. They could ask something out when he was back home, probably extremely tired. Thank God Myc doesn't know he was the one cooking the dinner, the man was going to feel even worst.

His cellphone rings and a sweet yet cold female voice comes from it.

— Mister Lestrade, do you still want him? Mycroft Holmes?

— Of course I want him! — Gregory sits, terrible possibilities coming through his mind — Who are you? What are you talking about? Where is Mycroft?

— Good, I'm his assistant, Anthea, you already met, Mycroft is perfectly fine, relax. But now listen to me. — oh, yes, the girl that kidnap him five times already — He is went to his reunion going around about how you were going to hate him after all the hard work you had on cooking for him — Greg roll his eyes, Mycroft knows literally everything, wondering now, what he deduced to know his boyfriend was cooking? — And how you were excited on dinning with him. Mister Holmes is a very sensible man, I don't know if you notice, he is going to blame himself for this in the next weeks. There's what we are going to.

— He is going to be so disappointed with me, Anthea — the bodyguard/secretary/MI6 agent can barely hear the man's low voice.

The sad green eyes are focous on the street lights. Normally her boss is very closed with personal life, caring, yes, but normally very polite on his preocupation. That inspector guy really changed everything, he touches the ginger man deeply. Now Mycroft Holmes was always in good mood, and more patient with humans. Happier in every sense. That's why she broke so many rules in one night.

— I'm sure he is going to understand, boss. He seems a good man.

— He is an amazing man — the sweet smile break her heart a little, her boss was really in love — Oh, Anthea, he is way better than me. This was the first time, I will be always missing dates and special moments, soon he will realise he deserve a better treatment and will step away. And I don't know how I'll manage that.

Anthea wants to say that Gregory Lestrade is in love with the government officer, that he will always understand and, as a policeman, he will skip some moments too, that was normal. But she stays quiet, it wasn't her job to tell him that, Gregory have years ahead to do it.

Mycroft keeps his head down while endearing Gregory's apartment, he should have gone to his house, but the idea of letting his boyfriend sleep without a proper apology was simply wrong.

The smell is the first thing that hit him, meat, chocolate, and sunflower. Rising his sight Mycroft notice the dark eyes on him, happy. Gregory is using his black "extremely expensive and only for important occasions" suit, hair putted carefully to the side and big beautiful smile. On the table in front of him a big dinner with all things the taller likes is putted. There is even cupcakes, but his diet could take the night off.

— Anthea called me — Gregory start walking around the table, towards Mycroft — she said your favourite smell is sunflower, so I asked her to find me some candles — he points the yellow candles that illuminate the room — And get me on track of how long would you take to get back home, so the dinner is still hot. She even told me to put a better clothe then my underwear, and I don't even want to know how she knew what I was wearing — he stops in front of the other, amused with the surprised look — I made you cupcakes, you favorite, and I tried to bake everything we love, for we to know eachother better.

Mycroft only manage to get out of his surprise state when Gregory, having to get on his tiptoe, places a kiss on his cheek and put the arms around his neck.

— This... Oh, Gregory, this is beautiful. Everything is just perfect. I'm sorry for all that trouble — the inspector shut him up with a hard kiss — No apologies then, I suppose.

— No, mister, just eating. And you are going to eat everything you like, Mycroft Holmes.


	4. little Spoon

Mycroft would never define himself as a romantic man, the after wasn't his speciality, intimacy was required for such a thing. But that was the first time Gregory would stay in his house, and his bed. I should have happened before, way before, but both man wanted to take easy with the other, never act as if the sex was the point in their relationship.

That was the day, with wine and trying to teach the inspector some dancing, slow kiss and calm sex. Mycroft never had this kind of experience before, never so gently. And, because of that, he didn't wanted to end like all the others before ended. He wasn't just get up and take a shower, and part his mind try to look a way to keep Gregory in bed as well, preferably interested on his partner. Boyfriend. Now they were boyfriends.

Gregory is terrible tired, as the government officer can see, too tired to speak or stand, what was good. And tired enough to just give a little smile with the sweet kiss putted in his cheek, and the careful arms around his waist. Mycroft hold him tightly in his chest, face in the grey hair and hands on the other's.

— Mycroft, you are adorably sweet, and a love to see the effort you are doing to make this amazing. And is working, love — he hears the deep and tired voice voice — But I'm not into being Little Spoon.

— What?

Mycroft untight the hug, getting slightly up to stare at the inspector. The man has a wide smile and the dark eyes open to the green, amused.

— Here, let me show you.

Gregory stands and put himself behind Mycroft, kissing his shoulder and laying down with the taller man in his chest, hands putted together on the full of freckles chest.

Mycroft doesn't understand the move, in his mind the logic was the bigger one hold the other, but he doesn't say a thing. The feeling of Gregory's chest in his back, added to the beard on the soft skin, the one who couldn't reach the neck, yet seemed to be enjoying just his touch, and the holding hands on his, against his still fast betting heart, is more than he could describe.

Gregory was way more than he could describe. The strong hold of the normally very delicate man and his soft breathing made Mycroft feel silly. He didn't need to hold the man in bed or his interest on what they just done. Sex was simply different to him, the hold after was something natural to him, the position, the felling.

— I mean like this, Myc — a shiver goes through the redheaded backs, but not the normal angry one because of the nickname, it was a comfort feeling, Gregory's voice had that kind of power — I got you, love.


	5. the ring

Alright alright, I promise I'm trying to post as fast as possible, but I'm also working on my other fic, so, please be patient.

Hey, you guys should check it out. "That's why I stay" it's and au where Mycroft and Sherlock have a niece. It not a ship centred fic, but that's a lot of Mystrade on it. You might enjoy it.

Well, please enjoy the chapter.

Mycroft would just deduce the "ring on champagne" before Gregory could even think of it. And he could waste the ring he was caring for weeks now on something deduceble. Something too big would just make his roll his eyes. And the classic kneel and proposal was bullshit, he would say "yes" before the question.

— If he say yes — Sherlock's deep voice takes Gregory out of his thoughts. The 221b is a pure mess full of pink toys and baby food. John and Sherlock are sit on their armchair, looking at the friend as he was a client. Rosie on uncle Greg lap just playing with his tie.

— Your brother loves me and he will say yes, Sherlock — Gregory roll his eyes to the satisfied shine on both man's eyes. After years of relationship with Mycroft, they still are testing their sentiment — Now stop this bullshit and tell me what to do.

— Greg, not wanting Mycroft to deduce you — John gives him a patient smile — reduce our chances to almost negatives.

— Maybe I could ask him on a family meeting — Gregory puts Rosie on her father's lap, walking through the room — Mycroft gets so estressed when with your mother, he wouldn't deduce me.

— But it would be very unpleasant to my brother — Sherlock is looking at his goddaughter, sweetly — My father would be very happy in giving you Mycroft's hand, mom adores you, but your future husband wouldn't enjoy the moment. Mycroft seems not to, but he cares too much about what other think, he would just not have the freedom to react. You two have to be alone.

— Great, how? When?

Mycroft sleeps calmly, the hair is messy, the pijamas are adorable and the tin lips are a little curved. He looks gorgeous, satisfied, and Gregory feels a stronger will to call him his husband the faster possible. But it should be something special, why the redheaded man had to be so fucking smart?

A smile comes to his face, he wouldn't change that, of course, he wouldn't change anything on the man. All the bossiness and the sarcasm, the smartness and the relative shyness, not even his insecurity, Gregory couldn't imagine his Mycroft different.

The inspector holds the soft hands, the long hands of a fencer, thanking his boyfriend has a deep sleep. He kisses the fingers passing each and everyone through the lips, enjoying the touch.

— These hands could be mine, Myc — Gregory wispers, reaching for the ring on his pocket, wondering if having it so close all the time was a kind of obsession. It fits perfectly on the pretty finger, beautifully shining with so many meanings.

Before Gregory can take it back, Mycroft slightly changes position, and, for the grey haired man despair, the hand before putted on the other's goes under the pillow, and, consequently, the government officer head.

The inspector wants to scream, hit his own head on the wall or just punch himself, but he couldn't awake the other man. He doesn't even move, unable to think straight. A almost crazy smirk comes when he realises Mycroft would, anyway, awake with a ring in his hand.

Hours pass slowly, Gregory doesn't sleep, hopping for another position change, secretly enjoying the sight, but Mycroft only moves again when the green eyes open and the sarcastic eyebrow rises to the, what he thought, already awake boyfriend.

— Good Morning, Gregory, what are you doing...? — so he rises his right hand, examining the shining ring on it. He never had saw it, and it wasn't there the night before — What is this?

Greg sits in the bed, dark eyes not knowing what to do. He wanted a special moment, a pretty discourse and something unforgettable.

— I ask you to marry me, last night — his voice comes out cracky. The beautiful green gets wider, going from the ring to the beardy face. Mycroft Holmes is speechless, and that amused Gregory, maybe he could get something out of this situation. — I sat here with you, and held your hand, the ring I choose weeks ago fit perfectly on you finger.

— I see — Mycroft forces himself to speak, fingertips and lips corners shaking slightly — And I said "yes"?

— Of course you did — Gregory bounds on the bed, touching the men cheek with his nose softly, both of them letting a smile scape — Because you love me, and I love you deeply. And that's the only thing I'm sure.

Mycroft place a delicate kiss on the other's lips, putting their front head together, his heart going fast against the ribs.

— It sounds legit, Gregory, my fiancé.


	6. I wanted to be the first

Hey ho, guys. Ok, I don't know Lestrade's middle name, and I don't believe somebody knows (Mark and Steven don't thought about it, I'm sure) so I just created one. Tell what you thought about it

— That's it — the sharp voice of Mycroft Holmes makes the green and blue view look dreadful. His face is red and breathing heavy — This is how Mycroft Holmes die, historians will write about this, and weep the lost of a great brain.

— Oh, shut up, Mycroft, we are hiking for only 20 minutes now — Gregory, slightly higher in the hill then the ginger man, looks gorgeous the sun hitting on the smily face, sport clothes marking the beautiful body. Mycroft easily convince himself the man would look way better in the most expensive hotel in Madrid, not in a fucking mountain in Ireland!

— Gregory, I'm a fine man, and fat, I'm not used to this kind of "sport" — he had other names to the activity Call me to sword fight or a concert...

Gregory walks calmly towards him, amused with the flush on the ginger cheeks, and reach for the dramatically placed on his knee hand. His fingertips were cold, but the hold is strong as always, maybe the angry was overdoing the tiredness.

— Just a little more, love. — Gregory pulls Mycroft a little, putting him in the move again — and... If you were fat, Myc, you would be dead by now.

— Thank God you agree this is impossible, Gregory Lancelot.

— Fuck you for knowing my full name, Mycroft Holmes! — Gregory considers letting his hand go and pushing him down the hill — Next time I see your mother I'll get your hole name and your baby pictures.

— I was already an adult when born — the ginger smirks. Gregory enjoy knowing he is one of the selected to hear the bitter humor of the British government — Come on, Gregory! Why walking so much?

— And... It's here — Gregory stops. When Mycroft look around, realises they are in top of the BLOODY GIGANTIC HILL he had to walk over — You come here — the inspector sits the ginger on a specific spot and sat right in front, knees touching — Look at the horizon, Myc. It's time.

Mycroft rise his eyes to the horizon, the sun is going down on the hills around. It's absolutely beautiful. The profund blue gets mistured on purple and orange, falling in the bright yellow hidding in the pure green. He let go a smile and look at Gregory.

The dark eyes are focous in the flushed cheeks. He is smiling, satisfied, hand calmly putted o the other's lep.

— That was what I wanted to see — he wispers, way louder than the hill silence — The golden light on your greens — the kiss is placed sweetly, making Mycroft's smile get wider — You beautiful smile, very rare unfortunately.

— I'm always smiling theses days — the government officer answer, getting the words wrong, something very rare too.

— And that's why I brought you here. I came here since childhood, sometimes with my dad, other alone, but never with someone special. And I wanted to be you — Gregory opens a proud smile, putting the grey hair back — I want to my only memory here to be the green — he pokes Mycroft's nose, playful — And to be the first place for me to say it, and I wanted to be the first.

Gregory bounds, holding the other's face and plays the most sincere kiss in his life, no doubt in his chest.

— I love you, Mycroft Holmes.


	7. Old and new

Anthea can only hear when the cellphone hits the floor. When she rises her head and notice the hard expression on her boss face, she thinks he might be having a heart attack.

— Sir?

But Mycroft Holmes doesn't hear her. The green eyes are wide focous on the floor, thoughts running, possibilities. A voice comes from the cellphone, an unpleasant voice of a woman who works with Gregory. The energic greens close in a terrible pain in his recently finded heart.

Bloody hell, isn't time for being poetic. Gregory was enjury. If it was a gang he could have broken bones, maybe a

he was shot, what if both, and if it was a shot, Lestrade might never be the same. paralyzed or have a psycological demage. His breathing start racing while his pulsation goes against his ribs. Mycroft is paralyzed. So that was the new unpractical reaction of the new sentimental Mycroft Holmes.

What he should do now? Obviously, he failed the man already, more vigilance and hidden bodyguards could have had him save, or at least save enough to not be on a hospital bed. Thank Lord is a bed and not a table. Opening his eyes, without really seeing his assistant talking in his phone, he realises the new sentimental Mycroft has faith in the supernatural.

Mycroft wishes to ask the old Mr. Holmes what he should do now. Fucking no. The old Holmes would chace the responsible to the ends of the earth and crush them into nothingness. Gregory wouldn't like that, he liked to see the good part of his Myke.

The new Holmes should get himself in a car and get to Gregory as fast as possible. Hold his hand, yes, Greg would like that. Bloody stupid nickname for a very beautiful one. And very beautiful owner too. A man who owns Mycroft too. A man who doesn't deserve such an incompetent partner for life.

— Mycroft, stop acting like a scared chicken and take some attitude — a voice comes from his cellphone, making the man focous on his assistant holding it. Sherlock's voice is tense and slightly worried — Come to the hospital. Now.

His brother voice, the only thing the new and the old Holmes would both hear clearly, takes him from the paralyzed position and have him grabbing the phone. First Mycroft needs to know what hospital Gregory was.


End file.
